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No Illusion
by Kathleen WilsonI must tell you, after all
that it was not illusion that held us there
together poised-- between ecstasy and despair.
But rather intricate transparencies, lying each on each,
embroidered with invisible threads
in patterns emblematic of desire.
We spent our time gathering symbols
and wove with unsure fingers light labyrinths of the air,
all poet's substance,
strung with shimmering silver mobiles
trembling to dim erratic rhythms
of a sitar whining all the while.
There was a tabla that I heard beneath it all,
subdued for a time,
but which with sudden stroke
reduced us to a heap of delicate fragments hung
with silver and with fear.
We stood alone, each of us,
gathering from the debris
broken images
which were strange, once losing form,
and we watched with envious eyes
wondering at the unfamiliar
in strange unfriendly hands.
With what a frenzy each of us
tried to salvage the remains.
And each would choose to build
something more solid, more secure
than that delicate web
--something to swing from--
it was cruel to do so,
unable as we were
to find rhythms that could equal
the wild familiar meters of the drum. 03/07/2008 Author's Note: an older poem I have never posted-- re-visioning.
Posted on 03/07/2008
Copyright © 2024 Kathleen Wilson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 03/07/08 at 09:49 PM Hi Kath. "Something to swing from"....yes that's the essence of it all for me. Something tangible and hand-held. Excellent. Thanks. |
| Posted by Mary Frances Spencer on 03/08/08 at 01:43 AM That's what Indian Music feels like..."between ecstasy and despair". I really like this one, adding to my favs! MFS |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/12/08 at 01:31 AM The music ebbs and flows - the threads twine, dissolve, are rewound. What is real - what is within our grasp? There is anticipation and purpose in this, even if confused by the intricacies. Lovely... |
| Posted by Alison McKenzie on 03/13/08 at 05:24 AM Oh, Kathleen. The images of delicate, brittle threads is just breathtaking. And how many of us have woven such fabric of fragility and tried to make a life of it? One small gust from the wrong direction and you've described the consequence as no other... |
| Posted by Leslie Ann Eisenberg on 03/14/08 at 08:15 AM i can't begin to tell you how your poem moved me. i was in tears by line 3. it's been a long time since i added a poem to my favorites. incredible story weaving with great rhythm and flow, and the added bonus of sound. thump, thump, my heart goes. congrats on POTD! pk |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/14/08 at 03:15 PM Congrats on POTD! |
| Posted by Gregory O'Neill on 03/14/08 at 08:17 PM This is a happy day! Congrats on a wonderful potd! |
| Posted by Maria Massarella on 03/15/08 at 01:42 AM Kathabela, I am still unable to find the words in comment to equal the intricate beauty of yours in this poem ... It's just lovely to see this POTD. Congratulations! *m.a |
| Posted by Scott Cadence on 03/15/08 at 02:51 AM Hands down one of the best poems I have read in a long time. Very seasoned, can't wait to read more of your work. :0) |
| Posted by JD Clay on 03/16/08 at 08:19 PM This wonderfilled poem transmits the cinnmaya throughout your being, Kathabela. It has the communal vibe with a rhythm that blends well with every reader’s atman. Congratulations on becoming the Sadhaka Poet Of The Day. |
| Posted by Tony Whitaker on 03/20/08 at 06:25 AM Like listening to a Pink Floyd album on acid. Great work as usual Kathleen. Into my favorites with another of your Master's strokes! |
| Posted by George Hoerner on 03/04/17 at 11:29 PM There is almost always a level of 'illusion' when. Especially if somewhere in the back of their minds they're trying to feel the future. This is very definitely one of your best m'lady!! |
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